Winter in the graveyard
by Wisteria666
Summary: Graverobber finds an unexpected rescuer in the graveyard. Warning- language
1. Chapter 1

Winter was going to be hard this year. I could already tell. The grasses and shrubs of the Necropolis were brown and withered from the cold, offering little in the way of concealment.

I hid in the shadows near the gates, scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. I had already watched the regular mourners leave, eager to be gone by the time the watery sun touched the horizon, well before full dark, when the Genecops could, and would, legally shoot any potential grave robbers on site, such as myself. Not that I don't deserve to get shot, at least according to a certain wealthy scalpel slut. But I digress.

It was twilight now. I only had a few minutes left if I wanted to harvest tonight. I thought fleetingly of the gap in the iron fence only a block further, but dismissed it just as quickly. The gap had appeared weeks ago; the Genecops would be watching it by now. With one last look, I took a deep breath and darted through the gates and into a nearby open mausoleum. I crouched behind an ornate stone sarcophagus, and waited. I had cut it close this time. Only seconds later a klaxon sounded, signaling the close of the Necropolis. Anyone caught now would be executed on sight, by order of Geneco.

I waited a while longer before emerging into the frigid night air, and listened intently for the sound of the patrolling Genecops. Smoking torches cast flickering light across the gravestones, and I ghosted between them, touching one here and there, taking note of which plots had already been harvested, and which ones were as yet untouched. This was the closest place I had to a home, and I loved it.

I stopped in an area of deep shadow, and took stock of my surroundings. The sarcophagus at my feet was well concealed between two larger monuments, the Geneco surveillance cameras were pointed away, and a long row of family mausoleums offered emergency concealment. Perfect. I caught sight of a familiar structure, and I thought of a pale wisp of a girl with sad eyes and the worst luck I'd ever seen. I witnessed, along with the rest of the city, the implosion of Shilo Wallace's entire life during that infamous opera fourteen months before. I grinned briefly, remembering how I had drawn the attention of the Genecops when I met her, just to impress her. Damn, did that backfire. In my defense, I didn't actually think we'd get caught… I've passed the place several times since then, but never seen any sign of her. Wherever the kid was, I hoped she was alright.

I crouched down against the sarcophagus and pushed. The stone lid slid away grudgingly, revealing the mouldering corpse inside. I tossed my long hair over my shoulder and tried to ignore the stench. I had to hurry. The scalpel sluts would be eager for a fix tonight; fishnet and torn bras did little to warm too-thin bodies. Any relief, no matter how false, would be welcome in this weather.

Huddling deeper in my thick trench coat, I opened my satchel and pulled out a long syringe. After clicking a little glass vial into place, I shoved the needle up through the corpse's nasal cavity, into its brain. Zydrate, that wonderful, pure painkiller poured into the vial, filling the hollows of the corpse's face with a soft blue glow. I stared, mesmerized. It's been years since I kicked the habit, but the drug still fascinated me.

Which is why I didn't hear the Genecops until they were too close to escape. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, frantically shoving the zydrate into my pocket. Heavy boots crunched gravel on either side of me, and I risked a look. Two armed Genecops searched the area to my right; another stood several yards to my left. I gauged the distance to the mausoleums, and cursed silently. There was no chance I wouldn't be seen, and the Necropolis would be sealed until they caught me. Damn it, I snarled to myself. I had only a moment before they'd spot me. I shifted slowly, getting ready to make a run for the gap in the fence. I wouldn't make it, but damn if I was going to be shot on my knees.

The sound of shattering glass startled me, and I froze. The Genecops sprinted past me unseeing, focused on the sound that had come from further down the row of mausoleums. I grabbed my satchel and started for the gap, but a soft voice calling my name stopped me. The door to the Wallace tomb was open now, and a pale hand beckoned to me. I vaulted over the body at my feet and darted into the offered sanctuary, shutting the heavy steel door silently. Breathing hard, I peered through the grille, but saw no sign that the Genecops had spotted me. I turned to face my rescuer. The kid stood between her parent's caskets, watching me with a grave expression.

"Hey kid," I grinned. Her mouth stretched into a slight but genuine smile. She had grown taller since I had last seen her, and she had filled out nicely. She had curves now, in all the right places- Stop it, I rebuked myself, dragging my thoughts away from her body. Kid, she's just a kid, I reminded myself firmly, focusing on her face. Dark shadows circling her eyes made her already pale face seem pallid, and her lips were turning blue. Her skin was goose pimpled from the cold. All she was wearing was a sleeveless black shift and stockings, not even shoes to protect her feet from the seeping chill of the marble floor.

"Damn it, kid," I said, shrugging off my coat. I wrapped it around her slight frame. "What the hell are you doing out here like this?" I tucked my hands under my arms. The temperature was dropping fast, and my bones were starting to ache.

"I saw you from my window," she replied. Her voice was still soft, but had lost the timid quality I remembered. "I ran down as quickly as I could when I saw the Genecops. I didn't think I'd make it. Thankfully I had a glass bottle with me."

I opened my mouth to thank her, but a siren cut across my words. I grabbed her and pulled her to the ground. Bright searchlights flashed outside, while loudspeakers announced a grave robber spotted near the pauper's pit.

"This is my patch!" I whispered, furious. Shilo snorted. Poacher or not, the screams that suddenly filled the night air were chilling. Gunfire followed, and then silence. The magnetic locks, which had engaged at the first siren, unlocked now.

"Come on," Shilo whispered. "We need to go before they start searching for others."

"And I suppose you have an escape hatch in here?" I asked sarcastically, gesturing to the bare room. She smirked at me and led me to her mother's portrait on the far wall. She touched the frame, and a section of the wall slid open, revealing a tunnel beyond.

"I didn't have time to grab a torch," she said, grabbing my hand. "Just follow my lead." She pulled me into the tunnel, and the door slid shut behind us, cutting off all light. My heart beating loudly in my chest. I could smell death around us, old and faint, but undeniable. Corpses had never bothered me, but this unrelenting dark set me on edge. I reached out with my free hand and brushed against rough stone, a shelf. Further exploration as we walked revealed corpses, lots of them, emaciated and wrapped in crumbling shrouds.

"Are we almost there yet?" I asked. Shilo chuckled, the brat.

"Almost, she replied, squeezing my hand. "Just a few more feet…there." I heard her fumble for something, and a beam of light spilled from an open door.

"Come inside where it's warm," Shilo offered.


	2. Chapter 2

I followed the kid down a long hall, into a well lit sitting room. The fireplace held only a simulation fire, but the heat was real. I stretched my hands toward it, nearly moaning with pleasure. Shilo tossed my coat over a tall rack near the door and padded over to a glass cabinet. When she turned back to me she held a glass filled with dark amber liquid in each hand. She pushed one into my stiff hands, and curled up in an overstuffed armchair. I sprawled across a brocade lounge and sniffed the glass suspiciously.

"It's brandy," Shilo said, sipping hers. Shrugging, I took a sip, and coughed. The brandy blazed its way down my throat and into my belly, filling me with warmth. Hell, this stuff was better than RepoTears, my usual libation. Even Rottigut didn't have a kick like this.

"Where've you been, kid?" I asked, taking another, larger sip. She shrugged.

"Here, mostly," she replied. "I was pretty trapped here for a while by the press. Once the attention died down a bit I was able to sneak out and explore the city." I choked on my drink.

"Hell, Shilo," I said, appalled. "It's dangerous to be out there alone." She smiled bitterly.

"Well, I know that now," she said wryly. I felt a surge of anger. I had spread the word that the kid was under my protection after the opera. Somehow, the tiny girl had touched the shriveled, coal-like substance that might charitably be called my heart. Hey, it happens sometimes. Not often, mind you.

"Did someone hurt you?" I demanded. She shrugged again. Damned teenagers.

"Doesn't matter," she said calmly. "I took care of it." She drained the rest of her glass, and the look in her eyes reminded me that her father had been the head Repoman. She rose to refill her glass, and I took the opportunity to study her. Her movements used to be cringing and frightened, like she was scared to be noticed. She seemed dignified now, almost defiant. Her hair was shorter than it had been, a chin length bob that framed her face. She caught me staring and grinned.

"It grew in pretty quickly, once my dad's poison was out of my system." She reached over and touched my hair, running a twisted blue and honey strand between her fingers.

"I thought about putting colors in my hair too, but it's too dark to take." She dropped back down into her chair and swung her legs over an arm. I tried not to notice the length of her legs, or the expanse of white thigh between her shift and her stockings. If that dress rode up just a little more…

"Is someone taking care of you?" I blurted out, to hide my distraction.

"No," she replied. "I'm very much on my own. I'm okay though. My dad had things arranged."

_She had been sitting at her father's desk, still covered in his blood, still covered in her tears, when she heard the door open. For a single moment hope flared, and her heart beat wildly._

"_Dad?" she called out. A small gray man appeared in the doorway._

"_I'm afraid not, my dear," he said gently. She shrank back, afraid now._

"_Who are you?" she asked, her voice small and shaky. He bowed slightly._

"_Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "I am Mr. Carruthers, your late father's attorney. He made certain arrangements in the event of his passing. Since he has now done so, and in a most public way, I am here to see them carried out." He set a gray leather briefcase on the desk and snapped it open. A large pile of papers were set before her, and a pen was pushed into her numb fingers._

"_Your father was a well paid and frugal man, and left everything to you. Sign here, please, and here. Initial here. These are his accounts, now in your name. The house is family property. You've only to pay for the upkeep. Sign here, initial and date here. And your mother's money, which your father has never touched, was left to you as well. Here and here. This is a list of household bills, and how to pay them. I understand you've been somewhat sheltered, so I've taken the liberty of simplifying them. And here. With careful planning, this should last you many years. Have a pleasant day." He snapped his briefcase closed and walked toward the door._

"_Wait!" she cried. "What do I do now?" He paused and looked back at her._

"_Do?" he repeated. "You endure. Find a job, if you wish, though those are cursed hard to find nowadays, unless you go to Geneco, and I'd imagine you'd wish to avoid that place. Find a hobby, if need be. But you live, and you endure." He bowed again and walked out, leaving her alone, covered in her father's blood, in her own tears._

"So you're okay, then?" I said, and immediately mentally slapped myself. Shilo raised her glass in sardonic response.

The sound of heavy rain hitting the sitting room windows made us both look up. Lightning zigzagged across the sky. I winced inwardly. I hate rain. I hoped the document shredders on Brick Street had closed the lid to their trash bins. I loathe sleeping on wet plastic, and my usual squats were out of the question, at least until a certain rich bitch got over her latest tizzy. Not my fault I called her by another chick's name. Zydrate junkies all tend to feel the same after a long nights work. But, until she got over it and called off her psycho henchbroads, I was laying low.

I sat up slowly. The brandy and the warmth of the room had made me sleepy. It was just as well I didn't harvest more than a single vial of Z. I had no desire to stand out in the rain selling. I looked over to see Shilo watching me, her head cocked. She swung her legs to the floor and stood.

"Come on," she said, striding out of the room.

"What?" I called out after her. She didn't answer, so I followed after her. I found her waiting for me on the second floor landing. Behind her was a dimly lit bedroom. Faded Blind Mag posters and flowered wallpaper suggested this was Shilo's room. A large canopy bed with heavy curtains and piled high with pillows beckoned invitingly. Kid, I repeated to myself. She's just a kid. Not anymore, my lower brain cut in. I shoved that thought back down.

Shilo looked up at me with those serious eyes, and reached for me. My groin tightened painfully, and I stood very, very still. Her slim hands touched my arms, sending shock waves through my body. She slid her hands slowly up to my shoulders, then turned me gently toward a closed door beside me.

"Guest room," she said dryly, those dark eyes dancing with amusement as she sauntered into her room. "Good night."

I stared open mouthed at her now firmly closed door before stumbling into my room. Minx, I chuckled to myself, as I fell into the soft bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Shilo placed a note and a cup of coffee on the nightstand beside the sleeping Graverobber, and stepped back quickly. As welcome as his company was, it was unsettling to have another person in the house, yet another unwelcome holdover from her childhood. She allowed herself a moment to watch him. Graverobber was sprawled across the bed, his long arms and legs touching the corners of the mattress. She considered tossing a blanket over him, but decided not to risk waking him. She glanced at his face, and rolled her eyes; the man smirked even in his sleep. Then she frowned, puzzled. His eyeliner and shadow had smudged in his sleep, but the stark whiteness of his face, which she had taken for heavy make up, remained flawless, suggesting this was his own skin color. Interesting. Graverobber mumbled something unintelligible, and she flinched back and slipped out the door before he could wake.

Minutes later, she left her parent's mausoleum and stepped into the necropolis. After pausing to adjust her frothy widow's veil, she walked quickly to the gates, carefully avoiding the other mourners.

The streets outside the necropolis were wet from the storm, and the pavement reflected a thousand colors from the city lights. Even after all the horror, the city still felt like a fairy land to Shilo, and the freedom that allowed her to explore its streets was heady. Her explorations had not always ended well, not at first, but a trip to her father's workshop fixed that. She touched her thigh, feeling the reassuringly heavy assortment of blades strapped to her leg through the silk of her skirt. Years pent up with various medical and anatomy texts assured that she knew the quickest way to kill a person. She was her father's daughter after all, she had thought grimly after dispatching a would be attacker with surprising ease.

The scents of the city filled her nose; wet pavement, smoke, decay, the mouthwatering smells of every cuisine imaginable. A pork bun vendor was setting up his stall, and she decided to stop on her way home. Graverobber would probably be gone by then, but she'd buy extra, just in case.

The Geneco tower loomed over her, and she grimaced, all thoughts of warm pork buns gone. Shilo would rather be anywhere but there. However, her devil's deal necessitated a monthly trip to Rotti's- no- Amber's office.

"_We seem to have a problem," Amber Sweet said, perching herself on the edge of Nathan's desk. Her abbreviated business suit was a far cry from the hooker chic Shilo associated with her, and it looked good. The heavy black stitches holding her temporary face in place, however, detracted from the look Amber was going for._

"_You see," she continued, her little girl's voice growing cold. "Our daddy took it upon himself to leave our company to you. Now why would he do that? Are you that good?" She looked Shilo over pointedly. "I wouldn't think you are, judging from what I see."_

"_Father liked them young," Luigi snarled from the doorway. "You remember how young that slut Marni was when picked her up."_

"_Ah, but she is a-very a-beautiful," said Pavi, gliding across the room to Shilo. He ran a gloved hand down her arm, brushing away flakes of dried blood. He reached up and traced the tracks her tears had made down her face. She tried to flinch away, but she was already pressed into a corner. Mercifully, Luigi appeared at her side and pulled her away. He shoved her into a chair, and glared at his brother. Shilo shivered. Despite Pavi's cheerful countenance there was a dark hunger in his eyes, and she thought his smile was more a baring of teeth._

"_I don't know why he left it to me," Shilo whimpered. "I only met him yesterday."_

"_And yet now here you are, heiress to the wealthiest empire in the world." Amber's words cracked like a lash, and her fists clenched._

"_He didn't sign the papers," Shilo protested._

"_Our lawyers say it's the intent that matters," Luigi spat out. "He made his intention to disinherit us very clear on national television."_

"_So, the question is-a, what to a-do with you?" Pavi grinned. He was behind her now. Luigi pulled a very large knife out of his suit jacket, and Pavi hastily retreated to the other side of the room._

"_But I don't want it!" Shilo cried. The three siblings stared at her._

"_What did you say?" Amber asked, startled._

"_I don't want Geneco," Shilo repeated. "I just want to be left alone."_

"_I don't believe you," Amber replied, her lip lifting in a sneer._

"_I don't know anything about running a business. And I hate Repomen. I don't want anything to do with the company!"_

"_Do you really think we're that stupid?" Amber spat out. "Stop toying with us!" Something in Shilo snapped. It had been a very long day, after all._

"_I don't want your fucking company!" she screamed. She surged out of her chair and stood face to chest with the taller woman. "I just want to be left the hell alone!" Amber stepped back, surprised by the tiny girl's fury. Shilo grinned nastily, swatting away Luigi's reaching hand._

"_You are obviously too stupid to understand that, so let me speak in a language you can comprehend. How much is it worth it to you for me to sign away my rights to Geneco? Name a number, and don't insult me!" The siblings looked at each other, and Amber pulled out a pen._

Shilo smiled at that memory. She was pretty proud of herself. But the downside was she had to pick up her (very generous) monthly check in person, and sign a new contract, relinquishing her rights to Geneco.

Shilo made her way into the lobby, where a distracted Gentern waved her to the private elevator that led to Amber's office. With luck Amber would be busy and the papers left at her assistant's desk.

No such luck this time. Luigi was waiting for her at the executive floor. He pulled her out of the elevator, and shoved her against the wall.

"So, our little sister returns to the loving embrace of her family," he snarled, shoving her veil away from her face. She kept her eyes downcast, and fought to keep her body relaxed. On her first visit, a Gentern had taken pity on Shilo, and gave her tips on how to survive the Largos.

"Don't stare Luigi in the eyes," she warned. "It infuriates him. Don't beg, or plead, or try to run. Just remain calm and passive. And DO NOT offer him decaf. Act besotted with Pavi. It's not hard; he's a charming guy, mostly. Fawn over him if you're alone, and do whatever he wants with total enthusiasm. If you resist, he might get insecure, and decide he needs a new face, and yours will do. You're on your own with Amber. Though if worse comes to worst, throw a vial of Zydrate and run in the opposite direction."

Luigi finally made a sound of disgust and pulled her past the bored looking assistant and into Amber's office. Pavi was already inside, lounging against the silk covered wall. He lowered his hand mirror, and reached for Shilo. Luigi wrapped his arm around her shoulders, blocking his brother's hand with his body. Shilo found it interesting. For all Luigi's eagerness to kill, it seemed even he had limits to what he found acceptable. He guided her roughly to the elegant lounge in front of Amber's desk and sat next to her, pinning her in place with his arm. Pavi draped himself across a matching chair, his ice blue eyes never leaving her face.

"Ah, mia bella," he purred. " How-a are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Largo," she replied politely.

"Pavi, please," he said. "We are-a nearly family."

"Pavi," she simpered. Act besotted, she reminded herself. Luigi's arm tightened, and she winced.

"Carefully, my brother," Pavi chastised. "You are a-hurting the bellezzetta. Always you are too rough!"

"Shut the fuck up, Pavi," Luigi snarled. "I'm not the one she needs to worry about right now." Something in his voice caught her attention.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at Luigi for the first time, forgetting the Gentern's advice. Her eyes caught his, and they stared at each other for a moment before he shoved her away and stalked over to Amber's desk. His fingers twitched over a letter opener, and both Shilo and Pavi tensed.

"Luigi, don't even fucking think about it."

Amber strode into the office, followed closely by her armed henchwomen.

"If you kill her, the scandal will be enormous," she continued, throwing herself into her chair. "I do not need that headache right now."

"And that is-a why we must warn you, mia bella," Pavi said. "There have been-a threats."

"What sort of threats?" Shilo asked.

"Pavi has a gift for extracting information from my Genterns," Amber said, rummaging through the stacks of plastic comm. Sheets on her desk. "It's the only reason I continue to let him debauch them with impunity. It pays to know what's really going on in my company. There have been rumors about one of the Repomen. That he's been increasingly selective with his jobs, and even more brutal in his methods of repossession."

"We did some investigating," Luigi cut in. He was fingering a long stiletto, and Shilo wondered what his investigation methods were. "He's going for petite, dark haired females under the age of twenty five. All of them with a similar look."

Amber thrust a comm sheet at her. Shilo stared at the pictures printed on it. Sixteen pale girls with delicate bone structures and straight black hair. Sixteen girls with wide, dark eyes and rosebud mouths. Sixteen Shilos looked back at her.

"He made the repossessions agonizing for them," Amber said. "He extended them."

"Turns out this particular Repoman was a student of your father's," Luigi continued. "He was his assistant in his medical practice before you were born, and followed him to Geneco after. He had something of a fixation with Nathan, idolized him."

"So when he walked away from Geneco, and rejected the repo part of his life, Simon Chase took it personally," Amber said. "That rage has festered for months, and he's focused it on you."

"Can't you talk to him?" Shilo asked. This was unbelievable. Her life was just starting to feel normal, and now this.

"Of course we did," snapped Amber, rolling her eyes. "Did I not just say your death would cause a scandal? He took off. Killed a bunch of Genecops, and escaped. But sooner of later, he's coming after you."

"We've-a put surveillance around you're a-house," Pavi said. "But it will-a not stop him. He was-a trained by your father."

Amber handed her another comm sheet, a shot of the Repoman in question. He was large and wide, and reminded her of a beetle. A thick black rubber coast covered him from knees to chin, and a dark gray scarf wrapped around his nose, mouth, and neck. Large round goggles covered his eyes, and a flat, wide brimmed hat topped his head. Not a sliver of flesh could be seen.

"Don't you have a picture of what he really looks like?" Shilo asked.

"His file has been scrubbed," Amber said. "And heads will roll, literally, for that. That is all we had in the hard archives."

"We're looking for him," Luigi said. "We will catch him. It's only a matter of time. But you need to watch your back. He's coming for you, eventually."

Shilo left the office a few minutes later, comm sheet and monthly check tucked safely in her bodice. Her mind swam as she entered the elevator. The only thing she could think was, Graverobber, I want Graverobber.

Pavi slipped into the elevator just as the doors closed. Her survival instincts snapped her back to attention, and she pasted a coy smile on her face.

"Finally alone, mia bella," he breathed. He took her in his arms, and she forced herself to seem eager. The face he wore was several weeks old, and the lips had pulled back, so when he kissed her, it was with his own scarred lips. Still, they tasted of formaldehyde and decay, and she tried desperately not to gag. She kissed him back with seeming eagerness, and he held her closer. His hands roamed her body, until the ding of the elevator signaled her stop. He released her reluctantly.

"Until next time, mia bella cara," he breathed, stroking her face. She gave him a sickly smile, and fled.

Standing outside the Geneco building, Shilo looked up at the dark, stormy sky.

"Can I not get a freaking break?!"


	4. Chapter 4

I was finishing my lukewarm coffee and getting ready to leave when the front door opened. Shilo flew past me, scrubbing at her mouth and retching.

"Kid?" I called after her. Down the hall, I could hear water running. "Hey, Shilo, what's wrong?"

"Freaking Pavi!" she yelled. "And Luigi, and Amber, and those goddamn repomen!" She let out a long string of profanities that no well bred young lady should know. I was impressed. Really. I followed the sound of splashing water and heated obscenities to a small bathroom. Shilo's mouth was red from where she had scrubbed the skin almost raw. I picked up her discarded veil and smoothed it out.

"Problem, princess?" I asked mildly. She spat out one last invective, then sagged against the sink.

"Another happy reunion with the Largos," she said bitterly. "With the added bonus of a rogue repoman out to get me." She gave me a rundown of her meeting at Amber's office, and pulled a folded comm sheet from her bodice. I looked it over and nodded.

"Bug," I said.

"Bug?"

"That's what he's called on the streets," I explained. "He's kinda squat and oval, like a bug. Then there's the Phantom, the Surgeon –that was your dad-, the Baron, the Butcher, and the Diver. We've all seen them at one time or another." I frowned, thinking. "You know, I did hear something about some pretty bad repos lately. Real ugly ones, and that's saying something." I tossed the comm sheet aside. "Well, that's it, then. You're stuck with me for a while." Ok, I was already planning on spending as much time here as Shilo would allow. I mean, her note had offered me a bed and a place to hide out whenever I wanted, and I'd be crazy to refuse a squat as nice as this place. But now at least I wouldn't feel like a freeloader, even if all I could contribute was my dubious protection. I'd rather face the possibility of a run in with the Bug than deal with the cold this winter. I handed Shilo her veil.

"Don your widow's weeds once more, my lady," I bowed. "We've information to collect."

"Do I get a say in any of this?"

"No, not really."

I led Shilo through the alleys and side streets, to the rougher part of town. We stopped at an abandoned tenement long enough for me to grab the last of my Zydrate, then made our way to Bleak Row, my usual spot. I tucked Shilo into an inconspicuous doorway behind me, and announced my presence with a soft whistle. My patrons converged on me like a flock of brightly colored birds, if said birds had mange, and possibly parasites. A raggedy bunch, Zydrate junkies are. No amount of surgery will ever change that.

"Graverobber, where were you?" Marco, a ruby haired regular cried. "We missed you!"

"I had a close call at the necropolis last night," I shrugged. "I got away, but I figured it was best to lie low the rest of the night."

"Then you weren't with Carline?" Hermaphroditie asked. Her name is self explanatory. I won't go into detail. It's too damaging to my ego.

"What about Carline?" I asked suspiciously. My little flock looked around at each other, at the ground, anywhere but me.

"Children," I said warningly.

"She was at the necropolis last night," Marco finally admitted. "The Genecops caught her extracting Zydrate from the pauper's pit. They shot her."

"She was the poacher?" I yelped, then glowered, thinking back to her recent appearance change. She had streaked her blond hair with multiple colors, and traded her mini skirts for leather pants. She had even acquired a battered brown jacket. I had thought she was just another fangirl. I never realized she had been disguising herself as me to harvest my patch. No wonder the Genecops were on my ass lately.

"You all knew she was poaching, and didn't tell me?" I growled. The group of junkies shrank back. "I should take my goods elsewhere." A chorus of dismayed protests met my words, and I held up a hand.

"But I am a very forgiving businessman," I smiled sweetly. "I find myself in need of information." I held up a ready Zydrate gun. "Step right up, pretty birds, and sing. I want to know everything about the Bug and any rumors about any dark haired, young repo victims."

"You mean the Wallace girl look-alikes?" An Asian (this week) woman shuffled forward, her eyes locked on the Zydrate gun. "I seen him. He ripped a girl apart. I was hiding behind some crates when it happened. I couldn't move. I had to see the whole thing."

"Did he say anything?" I asked.

"He said, 'Daughter of a traitor, it's all your fault.' Then he killed her."

I pressed the gun to her jugular, and she slumped into Marco's arms.

"Bitsy got killed this morning," Liam the Amber Sweet tribute said quietly. "She was a waitress at the diner down the street. She said her payments were up to date, but he took her just before sunrise. It was bad." His eyes filled with tears, and Hermaphroditie hugged him to her ample bosom. I gently pressed the gun to his throat as well, and let the drug free him from his grief, at least for a while.

The rest of my customers bought their fixes quickly, and drifted away. I swung my satchel over my shoulder, and turned to Shilo.

"Let's go, kid," I sighed. "We've got everything we're going to get today."

An hour later, we sat across from each other on the sitting room floor, making headway into the cartons of Chinese food I had bought us. To my surprise, she had eagerly ordered extra hot kung pao chicken, and was currently chewing the chili peppers with almost obscene pleasure.

"I never got spicy food when I was younger," she explained. "My dad insisted on bland food. He said it was better for my disease. I think he was really actually worried about the aphrodisiac properties of some spicy dishes." I swallowed a mouthful of lo mein wrong, and began coughing. Shilo crawled to my side and began to beat my back. This close, I could smell the peach scented soap she used on her skin. I was suddenly aware of how grungy I was. Let's face it, in the scheme of things, new clothes and regular bathing don't rate very high on my to do list. I made a note to find a shower tonight.

"I'm good," I coughed, waving her back. "No need to beat me to death." She gave me a playful shove, and settled beside me, popping more peppers into her mouth.

"How do you know about aphrodisiacs?" I asked, getting my breath back. "I wouldn't think your dad would let you know about those sorts of things. You know, sex stuff."

"Medical books," she replied. "I have a few that touch on sexual matters. I doubt my dad knew. Besides, I had a tv in my room. And you did give me quite an education yourself the morning of the opera. The injection in the femoral artery in the upper thigh is a simulation for intercourse, right?"

I stared down at her, speechless, until I saw the smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Brat," I growled, spearing a piece of her chicken with my chopsticks.

"What am I going to do?" she said suddenly. Her face fell.

"We keep you safe until Geneco can catch him," I said. I speared another piece of chicken, and she jabbed me in the hand with her fork.

"Ow!" I protested, jerking my hand away. She popped the chicken into my mouth, and laughed.

"I'm not sure how we'll manage," she said. "But I'm glad you're here.


	5. Chapter 5

After Shilo went to bed, I took the opportunity to explore the house, and check the windows and locks. The place was bigger than I expected, a maze of rooms and hallways, and my footsteps echoed on the wood floors. The walls were covered in faded gray patterned silk, and darker areas showed where portraits had been very recently removed. Brass and crystal light fixtures were covered in dust and cobwebs, and the entire place spoke of opulence gone to seed. I knew Nathan Wallace's story. The press had covered the opera extensively. I knew he had made this place into a palace for his wife, then let it fall into disrepair, to become a tomb for his daughter, the bastard. The only places the feel of disuse hadn't touched were Shilo's room, the sitting room, and Nathan's private area.

That was where I found the missing portraits. The heavy frames were stacked against the walls of the hall leading to his office. I spotted the preservation chamber where Nathan had kept Marni's body. The glass from the window still littered the floor, but the lamp was off. I was glad. I could still smell the sick reek of perfume and formaldehyde that came from that chamber. Rotti, may maggots feast on his balls, had forced me to steal Marni's corpse. It was in her mausoleum now. Amber had seen to that, in a nicely calculated PR move.

I picked up an old fashioned oil painting. Damn, the kid really did take after her mom. Same black hair, same dark eyes, same mouth. No wonder ol' Nathan couldn't let go. I felt a sudden chill, and I dropped the portrait and fled the hallway, as if his insanity could be infectious. I needed out of that house for a while. Grabbing my satchel, I slipped out the tunnel door. If I was going to spend so much time with the dead, I might as well get something out of it. Besides, I felt the need for some normalcy, and if harvesting is my normal, well, that just says something about my life, doesn't it?

I was in the shower the next morning, finally feeling back on even footing, when I heard a loud crash from downstairs. I paused only long enough to snatch an old straight razor from the sink and sprinted downstairs. More crashes came, and I followed the sounds to Nathan's office. To my surprise, I found the kid taking an axe to the wooden filing cabinets along the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelled. Shilo looked over and dropped her axe.

"Um, I don't have the keys," she said faintly.

"Why are you trying to get into them in the first place?"

"I'm looking for any files Dad might have had on Simon Chase." Her eyes roamed over my body. "You're white everywhere!"

It occurred to me that I was stark naked, dripping wet, and holding an open straight razor. A person could come to some mighty erroneous conclusions, coming across a scene like this. I flipped the razor shut and stepped behind a chair. Shilo crossed the room to stand in front of me.

"The unnatural shade and uniformity suggests chemical alteration," she said. She touched my chest hair, buried her fingers in it. "Wow, that's thick. It's softer than it looks."

I mentally cursed Nathan for not socializing his daughter. Her fingers traced the line of my hair down my stomach.

"Shilo," I said through gritted teeth. She snatched her hand back and covered her mouth.

"I am so sorry!" she said, her face crimson. "Sometimes I get so focused that I don't realize I'm doing something wrong." I grinned down at her.

"Of course you're focused on me. I'm a god amongst men. And in any other circumstance, I'd happily let a beautiful chick feel me up. But right now, I'm wet, soapy, and the cold is causing ego crushing shrinkage. So, I'm going to go back upstairs to finish my shower, and if later you're inclined for an anatomy show, I just might oblige you. Carry on."

"And I just might take you up on that," she replied with a lifted eyebrow. She sauntered back to the filing cabinets, and I hurried back upstairs, somewhat dazed. Sexual tension acknowledged, challenge issued and accepted. A mighty fine predicament, indeed. Seriously, what the hell just happened?

A little while later, I came back down, much more in control of myself. A rummage through the guest room turned up a variety of forgotten clothing. The Wallaces had entertained quite a bit it seemed, once upon a time. I helped myself to some faded black trousers and a moth eaten dark gray shirt. Feeling clean for the first time in weeks did wonders to clear my head. Still, my new found resolve to put some distance between Shilo and myself crumbled when I walked into Nathan's office to find her sitting on the floor. She was surrounded by papers and comm sheets, and she had the saddest look on her face as she stared unblinking at a photograph in her hand. I dropped down beside her.

"What's up, kid?" I asked. She handed the photo to me. A young Nathan Wallace grinned happily up at us, his pale eyes shining. He had his arm around the shoulders of a stout, bespectacled kid barely out of his teens. His dark hair was tousled in a seeming imitation of Nathan's, and he leaned into the older man, beaming at the camera. The back of the photograph read _Dr. Nathan Wallace and assistant Dr. Simon Chase, recipients of this year's award for Contribution to Medicine. _

"He looks so happy," Shilo said, wistfully. "I never saw him smile like that."

"Do you miss him?" I asked. Her face hardened.

"He lied to me my entire life. He kept me locked up my entire life, and he poisoned me." She closed her eyes. "But he was my dad. Yes, I miss him very much."

I handed the photo back to her, and she tapped it thoughtfully.

"Now we have an idea of what the Bug looks like," she said. "That's something. God, I wish we could do something. He's still out there, killing."

"There is something," I said slowly. "I had an idea. I'm just not looking forward to it."

"Why not?" Shilo asked.

"Because it means going to see Amber Sweet."

We bickered the entire way to Geneco. The kid wanted to go alone. After her last encounter with the Largos, I didn't want her alone with any of them. She correctly pointed out that I was a wanted Zydrate dealer. I pointed out (hopefully also correctly) that I was Amber's Zydrate dealer, and she wouldn't risk killing me. I finally convinced her this was a good idea. I almost convinced myself.

My hopes for a peaceful, bloodless meeting were dashed when the henchbroads stormed into Amber's office to meet us. The one on the right immediately smashed the butt of her automatic rifle into my face. The one on the left followed up with a vicious kick to the back of my knees. A quick jolt with the zap prods ensured that I stayed on my hands and knees. My head swam, and when my eyes finally began to focus, I found a pair of stiletto clad feet in front of me.

"Graverobber," Amber Sweet trilled. "I don't know why I even bother." A snowy handkerchief fell to the floor by my hand. "Stop bleeding on my carpet."

I held the soft linen to my throbbing mouth. A quick assessment revealed a split lip, but no loose teeth. I could feel blood starting to trickle from my nose, but nothing felt broken.

"Nice to see you, too," I said. "New, uh, everything?" She glared down at me.

"Don't give me that, you bastard," she snapped. "You know damn well what you did."

"Look, I'm sorry! It had been a really long night."

"You called me Trixie! I let you have a taste of this, and you called me Trixie! I know who she is. Torn up junkie rat. You're lucky I haven't killed you!" She made a small gesture, and Thing 1 hit me again. I felt a gash open up across my cheekbone. Shilo made a small, distressed sound, and I saw Amber soften almost imperceptibly. She spun on her heel and threw herself into her chair.

"What do you want, Graverobber?" she demanded. Ignoring the warm blood trickling down my face, I pulled the victim comm sheet out of my jacket.

"I've seen it," she said, with a disinterested glance.

"No, really look," I insisted. "These girls don't just bear a passing resemblance to the kid here. They damn near are her."

Amber's gaze sharpened, and she snatched the comm sheet from my hand, ignoring the bloody smears.

"How could I miss that?" she breathed. Shilo and I found it best not to answer that.

"After the opera, I noticed a lot of girls around looking like Shilo," I said. "I'm guessing with Shilo in all the papers, skirts were flocking in here, asking for the Shilo Special."

Amber dropped the sheet and turned to her computer. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, and she snarled.

"What is it?" Shilo asked.

"He's right," Amber grimaced. "These girls all came in wanting to look like you. How did you know, Graverobber?"

"I ran into Liam yesterday," I smirked. She scowled.

"I don't know why I haven't had him killed yet," she said. "There's only room for one Amber Sweet."

"Thank god," I muttered under my breath.

"There's another one," Shilo piped up. She wrapped her arms around me and helped me to the lounge. "Liam said a girl named Bitsy was killed yesterday, but he also said she was current on her payments."

Amber scanned the list on her monitor. "Here," she finally said. "Bitsy Collens. Eye tinting, skin bleaching, cheekbone adjustment. Provided a news clipping of Shilo Wallace for reference." Amber bit her lip. "She was current. Never had a late payment."

"He's escalating," I said. "Are there any more Shilos late on payments?"

"No," she replied. "They're all dead. Even the ones within the ten day grace period."

"You have to warn the rest," Shilo said. "They need to know they're in danger."

Amber tapped her long fingernails on the desk. "The PR will be hideous," she mused. "But with a nondisclosure agreement retroactively in place…" She strode out of her office, followed closely by her henchbitches. I quickly jumped off the lounge, ignoring the pain blossoming across my face, and ran to the computer. A few clicks of the mouse, and I had a printed copy of the list stuffed in my pocket. I made it back to the lounge just as Amber returned.

"I can't put a guard on all of them," she announced. "But I have my Genecops out now tracking them down to warn them." She eyed the two of us. "Shilo, go wait in the outer office. Now."

Shilo threw me a worried look, and I smirked back at her, hoping to look more confident and less dead man walking. As soon as the door closed, Amber stalked over to me and settled herself onto my lap. As always, she smelled like surgical disinfectant and expensive perfume, and when her lips grazed my neck, I shivered.

"What are you doing with my Shilo?" she purred.

"She's got a serial killing repoman after her. I thought it'd be a good idea to keep an eye on her."

She ran a sharp nail down my face, almost but not quite breaking skin.

"And are you feeding her a habit? Are you creating yourself a new, rich customer?" Her voice was dangerous now, and to be honest, kind of hot. Don't judge me. I'm damaged.

"No," I said, thickly. "Never."

"Good." She stood up. "Because if you do, I will kill you slowly."

"Such a good big sister," I mocked. She turned back to me, body tense.

"She's the little sister we never wanted," she said. "In every way that matters."

"How's that?" I asked, surprised.

"Daddy ruined her life," Amber replied. "He took everything pure and innocent in her, and he crushed it out of existence. She will never be whole again, not really. Just like us."

I stared up at Amber. I had never seen this side of her before. Not that I was ever interested in her beyond the money and occasional tumble. Apparently my shallow-as-a-puddle scalpel slut had hidden depths. Shouldn't be surprising, really. In the fight for Geneco, she had ended up on top.

"My brothers and I didn't start out as monsters," she continued. "No one starts out in life wanting to wear another person's skinned face, or wanting to stab everyone in sight, or end up on their knees in a filthy alley for a thrill. Daddy did this to us. We are the monsters he created. The question now is, how damaged is Shilo? Will she turn to surgery to fill that void? Give in to her rage? Turn into her father? Nathan loved the killing, deep down."

Amber leaned back against her desk. I could see the pulse pounding in her neck. Her heart was beating rapidly, and beads of sweat were gathering at her hairline. We both knew what she wanted. She wouldn't ask. I wouldn't offer. Not here. I'd seen Amber Sweet debase herself, sell her soul for a single hit of the glow. She lowered herself to depths not even the girls on Bleak Row would go. But in this office she wouldn't let herself show weakness.

I rose carefully, kissed her cheek, and stumbled to the door. Thing 2 gave me a sharp blow to the ribs, knocking the wind out of me.

"So you don't forget," Amber laughed bitterly.

I lurched out the door and into the outer office. Shilo caught me before I could fall, draping my arm over her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" she asked. I spat out a gob of blood onto the plush carpet.

"Awesome," I replied. "Whose brilliant idea was it to come see Amber?"

"Yours."

"Hell, Shilo, I'm a drug dealer. Why the hell are we listening to me?"


	6. Chapter 6

Amber Sweet stared up at the surveillance monitors covering the wall behind her desk. Her office was deep in the heart of Geneco, but these monitors were better than any window. She could see anywhere in the city, or nearly so, from the comfort of her office. She touched the controls on her desk, and two figures appeared on the main monitor. At first glance they looked like any other couple, arms wrapped around each other against the cold as they made their way down the busy street. Only the blood on Graverobber's face, and the strain on Shilo's, belied that assumption. They moved slowly together, the small woman supporting him. Graverobber glanced down at Shilo, and Amber felt a pain in her chest. There was a time when he looked at Amber with lust, with erotic hunger, and carnal pride. She wasn't sure when that changed, when she started seeing only disdain reflected in his eyes, even as he took her. He certainly never looked at her with adoration and yearning written clearly on his face. No one had. Only Luigi had ever come close, but even he made it clear he was as disgusted by her as he was attracted to her.

Graverobber and Shilo turned into a dark alley, and Amber touched another control, switching cameras to follow them. She watched Graverobber stumble, almost fall. Shilo caught him with both arms and lowered him to the ground. Graverobber leaned against the grimy wall, pain etched across his pale face. Amber felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn't meant for her girls to hurt him so badly, only to impress upon him a sense of their mistress's displeasure. Then it would be over; wounded pride mollified, she would visit him again, drag him into a shadowed corner in return for a little glass vial she could easily pay for a hundred times over.

The look in his eyes after the final blow spoke volumes. She had gone too far this time.

Shilo was kneeling in front of him now, dabbing at his face with Amber's handkerchief. Graverobber reached up and gently touched her cheek, and Amber shut down the cameras, punching the control harder than necessary. For a moment, she considered sending her girls after Graverobber to finish what they had started, then flinched back from that thought. She was not her father. His genetics did not make her decisions for her. Let Shilo and her grave robbing Zydrate peddler have each other. Amber had her brothers. Monsters belong together, she thought staring at her reflection in the dark monitors. She reached behind her and picked up her phone.

"This is Ms. Sweet. Have my surgical suite prepped. What do I want done? Oh, I don't know. Surprise me. Just tell the damn surgeons to start cutting."

Luigi paced across his bedroom. He was feeling restless again, penned in. Despite the relative freedom he had since the old man keeled over, Luigi felt just as trapped as ever. His rage still controlled him. It never stopped, or gave him any peace. Everything angered him. His manipulative, hateful father. His sick, warped little brother. His junkie whore of a sister. Even passive, cowed Shilo, and the Genterns who looked right through him, and his idiot interns who _couldn't_ _manage a single decent cup of fucking coffee…_

He pulled a switchblade out of his sleeve and began slashing at the curtains. Ribbons of heavy velvet fell to the carpet with a soft hiss. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the window, and watched the sun sink into the waters of the bay. Say what they would about the air quality, the heavy smog of the city provided some incredible sunsets. Luigi watched the crimson streaks bleed across the sky like open veins. He could almost smell the coppery tang of spilled arterial blood. No, he actually could smell it.

"Sorry about that," he said, turning back to the mutilated corpse by the door. "I almost forgot about you." He dropped his knife and picked up his now cold cup of coffee, grimacing at the taste of the over brewed sludge. Amber would be pissed he killed another one of his interns. Not that he really cared. Amber never stayed angry at him for long. After all, he was the only one who ever really loved her.

"Still," he mused to himself. "Maybe I should take her advice and replace the carpet with tile." He prodded the blood soaked carpet and winced at the squishing noise it made. He'd call the cleaners to take care of the body and the carpet, and spend the night in Amber's room. With luck, and a little bit of Zydrate, she'd let him take some of his rage out on her.

Pavi listened to his brother's heavy footsteps overhead, and rolled his eyes. One of these days he was going to start spiking Luigi's coffee with Prozac.

One of the Genterns asleep next to him shifted restlessly, and he pulled her closer, stroking her hair until she relaxed into a deeper sleep. He kissed the top of her head affectionately, and went back to staring at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling above his bed. His body was perfect; slim, toned, but not overly muscled. Dark tattoos were striking against his pale, flawless skin. His hair was thick and dark, with no signs of thinning or receding. But his face, his face. He eased an arm out from under the other sleeping Gentern, and touched the drying skin mask. It was definitely going. The hastily preserved flesh was shrinking around the edges, the lips already gone. He would see his own ravaged face in places. Heavy scarring showed around his moth and eyes, and the silver clips embedded in his skin were beginning to ache from the constant pull. He needed a new face. It was too bad the bella Shilo was off limits. He'd love to wear her skin for a while. Too bad indeed; he'd have to content himself with the occasional stolen moments with her. Amber didn't care, as long as he didn't go too far. Still, he had a place in his display cabinet for her, if his sister ever changed her mind. In fact, he'd put it right next to Amber's opera face, the one he wore only to the most special of occasions.

But that left Pavi with the problem of needing a new face right now. He looked over the two girls cuddled on either side of him, one a perky blond, the other a sensual redhead. The blond had a cute upturned nose, but the redhead had full lips and a beauty mark he found charming. He shook the blond gently.

"A-wake up, mi bella," he murmured. "You must-a be off to your a-bed now."

The blond Gentern rose sleepily, and glided out the door with a kiss blown over her shoulder, not even stopping to collect her uniform from the tangled bed sheets. Once the door closed, Pavi shoved the redhead off the bed. She had time to let out a single squawk of surprise before he pounced on her, knife in hand.

He was so glad he had had tile floors installed years ago.


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Shilo asked as I climbed to my feet.

"I'm fine," I said, stretching carefully. "I just needed to rest for a minute." A sudden twinge dropped me back to my knees, and Shilo dove down to catch me before I fell on my face.

"Damn," I muttered. "They worked me over better than I thought."

"Do you need a hospital?"

I made a derisive sound. "Hell no. I'm hurting, not dying. I just need to get back to your place and soak in a hot bath for a few hours." I reached behind me and pulled my Zydrate gun from my belt. Setting it to the lowest dosage, I pressed the needle to my jugular and pulled the trigger. The drug flooded my body in a blue flash, and I sagged in relief. I'd pay for it later, but at least now I'd be able to make it back to Shilo's. Some protector I was. Shilo watched me, worried. She was really, really pretty. Skin like moonlight, eyes like shadows at midnight… Damned Zydrate! Any more, and I'd probably be writing stupid sonnets and bad love songs.

"I'm better now," I said, pulling myself up, and trying to clear the beginnings of a sappy ballad from my head. "There's a disposal truck heading to the Necropolis that'll pass by the next alley in an hour or so. We'll hitch a ride." Shilo wrinkled her nose in disgust. I didn't blame her. Body disposal trucks are beyond rank. But Zydrate or not, I didn't feel like walking across half the city in my condition; my competitors might try to take advantage of the situation.

A noise at the far end of our alley snapped my head up. A middle aged man in an obscenely expensive business suit stumbled into sight. He was breathing heavily, and had a wild, panicked look on his florid face. My heart sank. I knew that look. I clamped my hand over Shilo's mouth and pulled her into the shadow of a large trash bin. I started to edge us slowly around, then retreated with a quiet curse. A disposal truck pulled across the mouth of the alley, blocking it completely. The man spotted it too, and tried to run back the way he came, only to let out a screech as a dark figure stepped in front of him.

"Oh hell," I groaned.

"Who's that?" Shilo whispered, wriggling away from my hand.

"The Phantom," I replied grimly.

"A repoman?" she gasped. "We have to help him!" She pulled a scalpel out of her skirt and tried to pull away from me. I yanked her back and wrestled the blade out of her hand.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "If you interfere, the Phantom will kill you."

"But I can help him," she argued. "I can make his payment for him!"

"Do you see his suit? His jewelry? He can afford to his payments! Besides, once a repo order is issued, it's too late to pay."

The guy was backing away now, pleading with the slowly advancing Phantom. He had a real sense of the dramatic, the Phantom did. Figures.

"I can pay!" the dead man walking begged. "Please, I can pay! My wife, she was supposed to send in the payments for the two of us. She was supposed to get it in on time. But she's furious at me. She found out about my secretary and- and me, and she wants me dead. So- so, you see, this isn't a standard repo! This is an attempted murder! Just let me pay. I can pay you more than that, just for you!"

The Phantom stepped into a pool of light, and Mr. Corpse-to-be fell silent. The Phantom had that effect on people. He was imposing, nearly seven feet tall. He wore a tall top hat, formal tuxedo, and floor length cloak, all of shiny black leather. Even the rose pinned to his lapel was leather. The creepiest thing about him, though, was his mask. Most of it was painted stark white, with only the left cheek and part of the chin a pale flesh tone. Its expression was utterly, inhumanly blank, no trace of pity or mercy.

The Phantom slowly drew a long scalpel out of his cloak and held it up to the light. It gleamed red.

"Don't look," I whispered to Shilo.

The guy who had evidentially cheated on the wrong woman tried to run for it, but the Phantom was quicker. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the poor bastard's throat from ear to ear. He fell to the ground without a sound. The Phantom knelt over him and ripped his shirt open, then stopped. He looked up, directly at our hiding place. I could feel sweat begin to run down my face, and I thought my heart was going to hammer its way out of my chest. Pressed against me, Shilo trembled violently.

After an eternity, the Phantom turned his attention back to his victim. He shrugged his broad shoulders, and his long cloak fell forward to cover the body from view. Didn't do a thing about the sound, though.

After he was finished, he shut the old fashioned medical bag containing the organs, and lifted his wrist to his mouth slit.

"Repossession complete. Clean up requested."

With a last glance toward us, he walked casually out of the alley. Behind us, the disposal truck doors opened, and two Geneco employees jogged over to the body, stripped it of wallet, watch, and jewelry, and carried it back to the truck. We waited until they drove off before we emerged from the shadows.

"He saw us," Shilo said.

"How could he?" I asked, shaken.

"I don't know, but he did. Why didn't he come after us?"

I didn't answer. I was wondering the same thing. The repomen didn't like witnesses to repossessions. Bad for PR. But this guy saw us; more, he blocked our view before cutting. Why?

"That was awful!" Shilo whispered, covering her face.

"Hey," I said gently, prying her fingers away. "We're okay. We're safe. He didn't hurt us. The guy didn't suffer. It was over before he even knew."

Her hands clung to mine, and she rested her head against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, and kissed her forehead. And when she raised her face to mine, I swear it was the Zydrate that had me kissing her back. She tasted like brandy and cinnamon, and when she reached for my belt, for the first time I felt a stab of regret that it would be in a dark alley, against a rough brick wall.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure? Because, your hand is still bleeding."

"Well, if you had warned me you had Jack the Ripper's fun kit strapped to your leg _before_ I put my hand there..."

"Sorry," Shilo grinned impishly. "I had my mind on other things."

She finished tying the bandage around my hand, and I settled lower into the bathtub. The steaming water had soothed the worst of the aches from my body, and even better, eased the worst of the Zydrate crash. The drug had worn off on the ride to the necropolis, and it had taken everything I had to cling to the handles on the rear of the truck. Shilo had to damn near carry me in, which was mighty humiliating, I have to say.

Shilo gathered the rest of her first aid supplies and disappeared out the door, returning a few minutes later with drinks.

"Hot saki with jasmine," she said, handing me a warm cup. "I'm making my way through Dad's liquor stock."

"And how's that going?" I asked.

"I'll need a new liver before I've tasted even half of what he collected. I wonder if Amber'll give me a discount."

"Amber? As if." I gulped down the drink, savoring the warmth suffusing my limbs. Shilo sat of the edge of the tub and trailed her fingers down my arm.

"Is this an effect of Zydrate?" she asked. "The paleness, I mean."

"Nah, cosmetic testing gone wrong," I answered. "My mom sold me to Geneco's cosmetic labs when I was a kid, in return for surgeries. One of the skin creams did this. Burned like hell, and it's completely permanent. I think Pavi uses it on his faces."

"And your mom?"

"Who knows? I ran when she tried to sign me up for an experimental eye color changing serum."

"Is that how you ended up a grave robber?"

"Yeah." I took a sip of Shilo's drink, and set the cup down. "I was hiding out in a graveyard and spotted a guy harvesting Zydrate. I knew how much that stuff is worth, so I shadowed him for a while, until I got the basics down, then stole his gear while he was busy with a client. I started in the pauper's pits and worked my way up." I shrugged. "It's a decent living. You know, if you don't mind the stench, psycho violent clients, and the constant threat of danger. And speaking of danger," I continued, wanting to get away from the topic of my past. "We'll hit up the next girl on the list in the morning. If nothing else, we can convince her to change her look enough to take her off the Bug's hit list."

"I'd like that," Shilo said slowly. "It would be a nice change to look out for someone else for a change." She grazed my chest lightly with her nails, bringing goosebumps to my skin. "Are you almost done here?" she asked. "I'm thinking I might let you sleep in my room tonight."

I couldn't get out of the tub fast enough.

"Aren't you ready yet? Geez, how much makeup do you really need?"

"I'll be down in a minute!" I called down. Shilo groaned impatiently from the bottom of the stairs, and I turned back to applying the eyeliner I had swiped from her vanity. It takes a real secure man to wear more makeup than his chick, I always say.

She was waiting by the door by the time I clomped down the stairs.

"Very pretty," she snarked at me, before standing on her toes to give me a quick kiss. Her spontaneous displays of affection were going to take some getting used to for a guy like me. She pulled the ever-present veil over her face. "Now let's go before the Bug gets to the next girl on the list."

We shouldn't have hurried. We found her on Shilo's front step. Or rather, Shilo did, by tripping over her body, and landing in a pool of blood. She let out a high-pitched keening, and I grabbed the back of her dress and hauled her back inside. Her breathing was harsh and fast, and when I ripped her veil from her face, her eyes were dilated with shock.

"No, no," she whispered. "There's so much blood. Daddy, the blood..."

"Kid," I said, shaking her gently. "Kid, look at me. It's okay, I'm here. This isn't the opera house. You're okay now. You're safe." Well, relatively speaking, of course.

"There's so much blood," she whispered, staring at her crimson hands. Damn, the kid was so cool most of the time, it was easy to forget that she had been through some messed up situations, and this whole comforting thing was entirely out of my area of expertise. I wondered if I should take her to bed again, but some deep-seeded, evolutionary male instinct told me that was probably not the right way to handle this situation, so I settled for holding her and awkwardly patting her back until she calmed the hell down.

"Was that the next girl on the list?" she finally asked, pulling herself together. I checked the print-out.

"Yeah," I said. "Pretty sure it's her."

"The Bug dropped her here. Why?"

"I don't know, kid," I sighed. "But we should probably call Amber."

Shilo and I were sitting on the foyer staircase, sharing a bottle of Broken Bird whiskey (complete with an impaled Blind Mag on the lable), when Amber stormed in.

"Are you hurt?" she demanded, looking over the blood soaked Shilo.

"I just tripped over the girl," Shilo replied, reaching for the bottle. "I'm fine."

"I thought you had the place watched," I said. "How did the Bug get a body past the Genecops?"

"He killed them all," Luigi said as he walked in. "We found all Genecops assigned to watch the house piled in the side garden. At least I think that's all of them. Hard to be sure. All the heads are there, anyway."

Pavi slithered in behind his brother, and made a beeline for Shilo. I tensed, my hand hovering over the blade I had hidden in my boot, but Shilo merely handed him the whiskey bottle. He looked surprised for a moment, then took a swig and lowered himself to the step below her, arranging his coat tails fastidiously around him. He had a new face, I noticed. The beauty mark was a nice touch.

"This guy is pissing me off!" Luigi snarled. Pavi made a dismissive motion with his hand.

"Like that-a is difficult," he said. "When-a are you not so?"

Luigi pulled a fuck-all big blade from his sleeve. The man was obsessed with stabbing, which just screams performance issues to me. He took a step toward his brother, but Pavi resignedly pulled a can of mace from his pocket, and Luigi took a hasty step back. Amber touched Luigi's arm lightly, and he immediately calmed down. She rewarded him with a sweet smile, which he returned with a goofy grin of his own. Well, well. I knew they were a screwed up family, but even I didn't see that coming. I had a sudden thought. If Amber and I were... and she and Luigi... then Luigi and I... Oh, god. i snatched the bottle back from Pavi, and took a deep swig, desperately trying to bleach those thoughts from my traitorous brain.

"Ahem," Pavi interrupted. "We have-a business here."

Luigi glared at Pavi, but before he could attack, one of the henchbroads strode in. I tried to suppress a flinch, but she didn't even look at me. She handed Amber a stack of blood stained photographs, and stomped back out. Amber looked down and swayed. Luigi immediately put his arm around her, and she leaned into him. Her face paled as she flipped through the photos. Even Luigi looked sick.

"We need to get you out of here," he said softly. I jumped off the stairs and took the photos from Amber.

"Oh damn," I breathed. My stomach lurched. There were photos of all of the victims, each gorier than the last. These were followed by pictures of Shilo; leaving her house, at the grocery store, walking through the streets. There were also some of the two of us; in the alley, Shilo up against the wall with her legs wrapped around my waist, her helping me into the house. Worst of all, several of the two of us asleep in bed last night. _The son of a bitch had been inside the house._

"He could have killed her at any time," I growled.

"What do they show?" Shilo asked. She hadn't moved from the stairs. Pavi's hand was stroking her knee, but she ignored it, so I did too, even though my masculinity was calling me a wuss. I described the pictures to her (hey, in general terms. I didn't want her to freak out again).

"So it's all a game to him," she said. "None of those girls had to die. He could have killed me any time he wanted to."

"Get cleaned up, and grab what you need for a few days," Amber ordered. "You're coming with us, both of you."

Oh, things just keep getting better and better.


	9. Chapter 9

The limo dropped us off at the entrance to Geneco. As soon as the creepy old driver opened the door, the group of paparazzi waiting off to the side began yelling and calling to the Largos. Amber smiled and waved at them, draping an arm around Shilo. The photographers loved that. Shilo smiled weakly, while I did my damnedest to fade into the background. God knew how tabloid pictures of me with the Largos would affect my business.

Luigi finally hustled us inside, past gaping Genterns, and into an elevator. I aint gonna lie, being stuck in a small, enclosed space with Luigi made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Shilo took it all in stride, though. Months of dealing with the Largos had desensitized her. I, however, was extremely relieved when we finally reached our floor. A long hall stretched out before us, ornate mahogany doors studding the dark green walls.

"Guest rooms for visiting dignitaries," Amber said, gesturing airily at them. "The United Republic of Britain's ambassador is at the end. He's looking to broker a deal for a Geneco center in Londinium. And the second prince of New Rus is around the corner. They have a genetic code we'd love to incorporate into a new line for athletes and dancers."

She stopped halfway down the hall and pushed open a door. Inside was the moste appallingly grandiose room imaginable. Pink satin wallpaper warred with gold velvet upholstery, fuzzy animal print rugs, and gilded fixtures, all of it over-lit by three massive rose tinted glass chandeliers.

"I redecorated this suite myself," Amber simpered.

"No kidding," I muttered, rubbing my burning eyes.

"You'll be staying in here," she continued. "Room service will bring you anything you need." She tucked her arm through Luigi's, and tottered back toward the elevator. Pavi gave Shilo a lingering kiss on the cheek, and followed after them, leaving us alone. Shilo and I looked at each other, than back at the room.

"Don't get settled, kid," I warned. "We aren't staying."

I left Shilo in our room, and hurried down the hall. The thick carpet swallowed the sound of my footsteps, and the long hallway was scary silent. I tried to shove away all the old ghost stories I've heard and read about abandoned hotels, but I couldn't shake the feeling that if I opened any of these doors, I'd find something terrible waiting. By the time I reached the stairwell door, I had goosebumps.

My time spent in the Geneco labs as a kid came in handy now. I took the stairs two at a time down to the cosmetics lab laundry on the fifth floor, one floor below the lab itself. I checked my pocket watch; nearly noon. The laundry staff would be leaving soon for lunch. I waited inside the stairwell until I heard the staff elevator stop just on the other side of the wall. Chattering employees filed in, and the elevator moved down. I slipped inside and helped myself to a set of loose surgical scrubs and a long white coat. I tucked my hair under a surgical cap, and hid my face behind a mask and safety glasses. A Gentern mask and uniform was stuffed into a clean medical bag, and as an afterthought, I stopped by the lab and swiped a tube of that dark red lipstick the Genterns loved so much. I also stocked up on vials of Zydrate before heading back upstairs.

I probably should have knocked first. Shilo damn near skewered me when I burst into the room. The kid was worryingly stab happy.

"Kid, it's me," I yelped, dodging her attack and pulling down my mask.

"Graverobber!" she cried, throwing herself at me. She kissed me hard enough to make me breathless, and stepped back to look me over. "I think I like the scruffy, disreputable Graverobber better."

"Aw, and I was hoping we could play Surgeons and Genterns sometime," I teased, tossing her the bag.

"Graverobber, how the hell am I supposed to run in these?" she asked, holding up a white platform high-heeled shoe.

"I have no idea," I admitted. "We'll figure something out after we get out of here."

While she changed, I emptied her satchel into the medical bag. No sense in arousing suspicion.

"How do I look?" she asked, pouting her dark red lips.

"Yeah," I breathed. "Surgeons and Genterns are definitely on our to-do list."

We rode the elevator down to the ground floor, hoping our absence wouldn't be noticed until we were long gone. It's not like we were prisoners, but the Bug had way too much access to Geneco's files, which suggested an accomplice in-house.

"We're going to pass alot of legitimate staff on our way out," I reminded Shilo. "So, head up, chest out, and swing those hips. Genterns sell sex as much as surgery. Don't avoid eye contact. Distant smile and nod." I gave her hand a squeeze, and pulled my mask back over my mouth as the elevator doors opened. We moved briskly across the wide marble floor toward the door. Just a busy surgeon and his assisting Gentern going about their business. I nodded politely to the guard stationed near the reception desk, and yammered on about Liam's latest surgery, using as many medical terms as I could remember. Shilo picked up on the game quickly, tossing in her own familiar medical jargon. To my relief, no one looked at us twice.

I timed our exit to blend in with a crowd of Genterns also leaving. We stayed with them until we reached Sanatarium Square, then broke off to duck onto a busy side street, where Shilo waved down a passing cab.

"Bleak Row," I told the driver. "And watch for any tails."

Amber lounged bonelessly on the couch, her long legs stretched across Luigi's lap.

"There they go," she said, as they watched Graverobber and Shilo dive into the cab.

"Didn't take them long," Luigi noted. Amber snickered.

"Of course not! You saw that suite. Would you stay there a second longer than you had to?"

"You decorated it," he pointed out.

"I was high as hell on that new painkiller the labs were working on a few years back."

"So that's why Dad halted all further development on the drug. If that pink monstrosity was the result, I can't say I blame him."

"It all worked out for the best," Amber said serenely. "Daddy had the perfect suite to stick unwanted guests."

"Where do you think they'll go?" Luigi asked, gesturing to the monitors.

"Graverobber has several hide-outs," Amber replied. "The important thing is, they're safer out there than at the Wallace place, or here, at least until Chase's accomplice is rooted out."

"How's Pavi doing on that?"

"He's 'interrogating' them with great enthusiasm," she sighed, rolling her (today) lavender eyes.

"I just had a thought," Luigi said slowly.

"Did it hurt?"

"Bitch. So, if you and that Graverobber guy..."

"You _really_ don't want to finish that thought, dear."


	10. Chapter 10

I stripped the scrubs off in the cab and bundled them up to stuff in the bag, along with Shilo's red Gentern mask. The sky had opened up again, and Shilo was starting to shiver in her thin cotton uniform.

"Don't worry, kid," I said. "It's a short walk from the corner of Bleak to where we're heading."

"Where's that?" she asked. Her eyes were darting from the windows to the mirrors, searching for any sign of the Bug.

"We're looking for a place to lie low," I replied. "Amber knows all my squats, which means her employees know, too."

"Why don't we just find a hotel? I have the money to pay for a room."

"Your bank account can be traced," I explained. "We need to stick with the money we have on us, and what I can get for the Z I stole, which, to be honest, won't be as much as I'd like."

"Why not?" she asked. "It's still Zydrate, right?"

"Well, yeah," I sighed. "Thing is, the stuff I harvest is the purified concentrate of what the surgeons use. That's why there's such a demand for what I sell."

"I see." She mulled that over. "Do you think we'll have to be in hiding long?"

"I don't know, kid," I said honestly. "I'm not so sure anymore that the Genecops can handle him."

"It sounds different when you say that now."

"When I say what?"

"Kid," she said. "You say it differently than before."

"I can't imagine why," I said wryly, touching her cheek. She turned her head slightly and wrapped her red lips around the tip of my finger, nibbling gently. My eyes glazed over, and she laughed. The cab came to a halt, and she tugged at my sleeve.

"Let's go find a place to spend the night," she said, cocking an eyebrow suggestively.

We walked a few blocks before I found the place I was looking for. The narrow, suspiciously thick metal door was deeply recessed and mostly hidden from view, and Shilo hesitated as I pushed it open. The smell of strong coffee, incense, and something sweeter washed over us. I hustled her inside and shut the door quickly.

The coffee shop was long and extremely narrow, with small tabled set along one wall, the counter opposite. At the far end, past both, was a single beautifully carved wood door. The heavily armed barista looked up from his spot near the register, and eyed us warily, before nodding to me.

"You know the rules, Graverobber," he rumbled. I crossed my heart.

"No poaching customers, no selling in your house. Come on, when have I ever broken my word?"

"Just sayin'," he replied, running a cloth lovingly over the flashgun laid across the counter. Nasty things, those. They'll leave a smoking hole the size of a giant's fist in a person. "Came across a colleague of yours poaching the other day. I'm told he'll make a full recovery. Eventually."

"Point taken," I conceded. "Is Marco around?"

"Downstairs," he said. "You buyin' anything?"

"Yeah, straight black for me," i replied. "Kid, what do you want? Oh. Hell."

Shilo stood beside me, swaying gently, a serene smile on her face. Her fingers were starting to twitch.

"It smells so nice in here!" she said happily. I looked back at the barista, who snickered.

"Big crowd right now," he explained. "People wanting out of the weather. I guess the smoke wafting up is heavier than usual."

"Large espresso with cream, then," I sighed. "I hope you have a paper and pen ready."

"Yeah, got tired of people carving up my tables."

I sat Shilo at a table near the back, and handed her the paper and pen.

"I'll be right back," I said. "Don't move. Just drink your coffee and draw. The SynOp will wear off soon."

The barista brought over her coffee and a few cookies.

"I'll keep an eye on her," he promised. "Is that Shilo Wallace?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"Hell of a thing, that opera," he said simply, and went back to fondling his gun.

Beyond the carved door was a steep metal staircase leading down into a subterranean den. SynOp smoke-filled the air with the scent of burning spices, and i tried to take shallow breaths. SynOp was never my thing, but like the barista said, joints like this were a good place to wile away a cold and dreary day, and I had built up a certain tolerance over the years. Nevertheless, I couldn't afford any dull edges until Shilo was safe.

The SynOp den was simply furnished; just masses of cushions, rugs, and low tables cluttered with smoking braziers and art supplies. SynOp, an early attempt by Geneco to create a synthetic opioid painkiller, had the effect of making it's users both relaxed and restless at the same time, hence the drawing implements. Some dens provided wood carving stuff, but I found mind altering substances and sharp objects a bad combination.

I found Marco hunched over a table near the stairs, focused intently on the drawing he was working on. Blind Mag in her famous Chromaggia costume, her head thrown back, lips parted in song. Her eyes were closed.

"Doesn't seem right to draw her eyes anymore," Marco murmured. "She plucked them out herself, didn't she?"

I knelt down beside him, waving the smoke away from my face.

"I need a favor," I said. "I need a place to hole up for a few days, someplace private and halfway decent. Any ideas?"

Marco added a few lines to his drawing, the merest suggestion of wings.

"Carline had a new place in the Garment District," he said. "Needlepoint Lane, above the dressmakers on the corner. I guess she's not going to need it anymore, right?"

I tucked a glass vial into his pocket as thanks, and made my way up to the shop.

Shilo was still sitting at the table, and I slid into the chair across from her. Her paper was filled with detailed sketches of insects, each one life-like in its precision.

"I've got us a place," I said.

"Good." Her coffee was gone, and her eyes were clear again. She looked up at me, troubled. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this. If you want to bail, I won't hold it against you. The Bug won't have any reason to go after you if I'm not around."

I reached over, and pulled her around the table and onto my lap.

"It's too late, kid," I said. "You got stuck with me the moment you saved my life. Besides," I continued with a smirk. "I finally got a hot chick with money, who's also sane. Think I'm going to screw that up?"

Shilo laughed, looking relieved. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I sighed with pleasure.

The small bells attached to the front door tinkled, and I looked up. _Oh, shit._

In every man's life there is that one woman who embodies every mistake he's ever made. An outside observer might think Amber Sweet would be mine. No, oh no. I should be so lucky. Mandy was 5'6, 120 lbs of pure neurotic spite. Short, spiky blue hair and neon clothing made her a deceptively cute package, but buyer beware. A regular once told her the shade of lipstick she was wearing didn't suit her. She stole his credit cards, ordered the most twisted fetish mags she could find, and sent them not only to his wife, but to his office and his 80-year-old mother as well. Then, she set fire to his car.

And what did I do? Well, she was a long time customer and kind of a friend, so I gave her a vial of Zydrate in trade. Once. I still have scars. And when I rebuffed a second offer, well, lets just say hell hath no fury like a woman you seriously shouldn't have slept with. I was sleeping with one eye open and a knife in my hand for months.

Mandy saw me and Shilo as soon as she walked in, and her eyes flashed red, I swear. She sauntered over, and leaned against our table. Shilo, sensing the potential threat, watched her warily. Smart girl. Mandy licked her lips and grazed my leg with her knee.

"It's a cold day, Graverobber," she purred. "Aren't you going to warm me up?"

"Sure," I said. "I'm sure I can get Cuddles over there to fix you a cup extra hot."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she slid down to her knees beside me.

"I'm sure you can find another way to make me hot," she said, as she ran a hand up my thigh.

Shilo's foot snapped out, hitting Mandy in the chest and sending her flying into the counter.

"Are you nearly finished with your drink?" she asked me calmly. I nodded, speechless. This wasn't going to end well.

Mandy sprang to her feet and grabbed Shilo by the hair, pulling her from my lap. Shilo reached up and pinched the skin under Mandy's arm, making her cry out in pain. She let go of Shilo's hair, and took a swing at her. Shilo ducked, and Mandy stumbled forward, into my lap. I looked up helplessly at the barista, who just shrugged as if to say _Your problem, mate_.

Mandy pushed off from my chest, cursing loudly. She took the heavy coffee mug from the table and swung it at Shilo's head. Shilo stepped to the side, and the mug sailed past to shatter against the far wall. Mandy rushed Shilo again, and this time I caught a glint of silver in Shilo's hand. An ugly gash appeared across Mandy's mouth, from upper lip to chin, and she staggered back, shocked. Shilo tossed a handful of napkins at her.

"Clean yourself up," she ordered. "Show some damn dignity."

Mandy pressed the napkins to her bleeding face, and glared hatefully at Shilo.

"I'll find you, bitch," she snarled, before storming into the den.

"Sorry about that," I said to the barista. He shrugged. He's seen worse.

"No worries," he replied. "Just out of curiosity, where did your girl manage to hide that scalpel?"

"You okay?" I asked Shilo as we hurried down the block. Shilo wiped futilely at the blood spatter on her white uniform.

"I'm fine," she grinned. "That's not the first fight I've been in this past year. You can explain what that was about when we get inside. Is it far?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes walk from here," I said. "Hopefully we can get there before the next fall of rain."

I adjusted my coat, then stopped dead. _Not good._

"What is it?" Shilo asked, as I searched frantically through my pockets.

"The print out of the Bug's potential victims," I said. "It's gone."


End file.
